


baby, it's a violent world

by lapmonster



Series: life in technicolor [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hacking, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26072818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapmonster/pseuds/lapmonster
Summary: Before a charity event, a private moment between Oliver and Felicity is interrupted by a hacker. (Season 4 canon divergent - extended universe.)
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Series: life in technicolor [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/563737
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	baby, it's a violent world

**Author's Note:**

> Okay it's been an eternity since I posted anything. I started writing this late in the second season I wanna say, but it ended up being some kind of alt season four to fit in the "life in technicolor" series: Sara is alive, Ray never showed up in the capacity or context in which he did, and Oliver and Felicity have been running Queen Consolidated together but keep their dating hush-hush.
> 
> The hacking is super fake in this, so I apologize. Un-beta'd, because that's just on brand for this series now.

The rough, calloused pads of Oliver’s fingers skitter over the side of Felicity’s neck for the _third_ time that night, gently pushing back her silky blonde waves. Her lips lift in an exasperated smile. “Oliver,” she admonishes, but it comes out like a breathy moan when his mouth connects with her skin.

“What?” he says, feigning innocence even as he continues to lick along the raised tendon on her neck.

Felicity feels herself weaken incrementally, strength in her limbs draining through to the floor. She nearly melts into the touch, but she doesn’t give in; if that’s not heroism, she doesn’t know what is. Instead of moaning like she so wants to when he starts to suck a mark, she lightly knocks his jaw with her shoulder. “Uh-uh, Oliver,” she says firmly. “Business before _the business_.”

He pouts when she turns to look at him. “You're no fun,” he whines, but sits down at the desk of her foundry workstation regardless, even if it’s with a little huff. 

She gives him a look, pointing at the new stack of contracts he has to sign for Queen Consolidated in front of him. The cavalier, slacker attitude has its appeal, even if he’s acting like the kind of guy she sneered at in college, but work comes first. She leans her hip against the edge of the desk, only to see his eyes wander over to where her leg is bared by the slit in her dress. If he were a cartoon, he’d be visibly drooling.

She smacks him lightly on the shoulder, iridescent gown sparkling in the low light. “You are losing money every time you become distracted,” she says, not helping the case when she pulls herself up to sit on the desk. But, she decides, she may as well have fun teasing him while he’s being difficult. She crosses her supple legs and continues, “Which means less money to afford any more charity galas, one of which we are _already late to_.”

Oliver grins up at her cheesily, looking all too handsome in his fine tailored suit, emerald green pocket square to match her dangly earrings and a shiny new arrow-shaped industrial piercing. There’s been no official announcement of their courtship, and although they’re not necessarily sneaking around, it would be somewhat of a scandal if it got out now that they’re running the show together. It’s in the little things that they slip through, with the excuse that it makes them a “team,” rather than a couple. Both are true, of course, but no one outside their close friends has to know that. 

Dutifully, Oliver sets to signing the paperwork. He has gotten a lot better at actually running the company recently, instead of just letting Felicity puppet him around, but he doesn’t read a word of what he’s signing now. He’s happy to trust she’s making the right decisions and (this being the most truthful reason) he really wants to get to that other “business” Felicity mentioned.

Halfway through the stack, Oliver’s left hand finds Felicity’s leg; she can’t believe it but he literally walks it over on two fingers before slipping between the slit in her dress and resting his palm there. She eyes him warily, but he continues to diligently sign away, so she comfortably puts her hand against his through the fabric of her dress.

But the moment Oliver has signed on the last dotted line, he drops the pen instantly, resting his cheek against the back of her hand on her lap. Felicity smiles warmly, patting his head with the hand not trapped by his face; she decides to give him a moment to relax before they make the mad dash to the gala. Oliver turns his head under Felicity’s fingers as they scritch through his short hair, pressing a little smooch against her knuckle.

Then his hand shifts under hers, hiking the skirt up by the slit to her hip as he holds the hand that was under his cheek with his other one and directly kisses her thigh. She shrieks with laughter, squirming beneath his lips, warm and wet against her sensitive skin. Her knees part under his guidance, stubble burning just right on her inner thigh as he noses further past the hem of her shimmering gown.

She isn’t wearing underwear.

With a combination of embarrassment and empowerment, Felicity notices the smug smirk on Oliver’s face when he sees. Her fingers slip through his hair to tighten her grip on it, the pain zipping deliciously down his spine. He chuckles, warm breath ghosting over her wetness. Her eyes close, lips part. “Oliver,” she whispers. This time, it’s not an admonishment, but a question: a plea.

Oliver obliges, pushing her skirt higher over her hips and dipping his mouth to her core.

This is precisely why they can’t go public on the true nature of their “partnership.” Who knew what the board would do if they learned of what happened behind closed doors?

“We really,” she breathes, then forgets what she was going to say for a beat. “We should go.”

Oliver hums, as if actually considering what she said. The vibration of his lips moves through her, toes curling in her shoes. He leverages his palms under her hips, sliding her to incline on the table, opening her up all the more for his tongue. Felicity moans grow louder when Oliver’s hands stay under her, massaging her ass. She tosses her head back, perfectly coiffed waves of hair falling out of place, a wayward curl sticking to her lip gloss as she pants hard against the rush of pleasure overtaking her body. 

All thoughts of leaving have gone from Felicity’s mind, all she wants right now is Oliver’s mouth on her and sweet release, so close, so—

The metal table rattles underneath her with the sudden, violent rumble of her cell phone, an ugly klaxon alert spewing from its speaker. Startled by the barrage of sound, the two jump, jolts of adrenaline zapping them to attention.

Oliver looks ludicrously comical, suddenly pulling away from her into a fighting stance with his fists up, face slick with her. When he realizes it’s just her phone, he narrows his eyes at the sound with a suspicious grin. “Is that from Star Trek?”

“Battlestar Galactica,” she corrects distractedly as she sits up and grabs the convulsing phone. The horrible sound ends in her hands as she reads the flashing warning on the screen. “Speaking of which,” she mutters, before loudly interjecting: “ _frack_!” She urgently hops off the table, yanking down her dress. 

Oliver stands, worried as he watches her hastily dash to the computer monitors. “What’s going on?”

“We’re being fracked—” She shakes her head, mind and fingers moving too fast for her mouth to keep up. “Hacked! We’re being hacked!”

“What?” asks Oliver, incredulous as he falls in step beside her seat. He watches her work, but the strings of code mean nothing to him. “By who? I thought that was impossible.”

“ _Improbable_ , apparently,” she snaps. The Team Arrow lair security is a point of pride for Felicity, she’s more than a little shaken by this invasion.

Oliver has no idea what’s going on, but the screen keeps flashing red, ominous words like _DECRYPTED!_ or _THANKS!_ in white comic speech bubbles pointing at an obnoxiously smug-looking cartoon head hovering over all their sensitive files. All Felicity seems to be able to do is re-lock something once it’s unlocked; every new failsafe she enacts seems to be barreled through.

“Oh no you don’t,” she mutters under her breath. “You don’t play a player.”

She sets to multitasking: while keeping an eye on the files that are being invaded to pounce on them with an additional defensive encryption when the cartoon triumphs, she begins writing a program to flood the computer with fake data that look like real files to slow the hacker down from the real stuff. The fake files will have similar failsafes, but they give up instead of recycling code and re-locking, giving the hacker a false sense of victory.

Breathing out a little _phew_ when finished (it didn’t take her long), Felicity gets an idea: “Oh! The fake files!”

“Yes?” prompts Oliver. “What’s happening?”

The words fly out of Felicity’s mouth as the code flows from her fingertips. “I wrote a program to send ‘em on a wild goose chase, distract them from the real files with too many fake files to choose from, slow ‘em down. Now, if I just make one of those files a trojan...”

“That’s a… virus?” guesses Oliver, squinting. He’s 99% sure she’s not talking about condoms or horses.

“Bingo was his name-o!” answers Felicity, a little manic. “If they download it, they’re locked out and I have remote access to their computer—voila!” She interrupts herself to exclaim, pumping a fist in the air. “Gotcha!”

Oliver would be lying if he said watching Felicity work her magic after his tongue was inside her didn’t turn him on. “You did it?”

She lets out another breath. “Yes. It’s a slow burn virus, so it’ll be a while before it activates. Lull them into a false sense of security,” she tells him, shutting down the system to prevent any further attacks, but not before she connects the progress of the virus to her tablet. She flashes him a smile, holding up the device. “I’ll be able to track its progress on my tablet.” 

“Wait, why?”

“Well, now we absolutely _have_ to go. We are beyond fashionably late.”

Oliver does a double take. “You still want to go to the gala?”

“I didn’t get all dressed up just for you!” she teases, striding to the table where Oliver was going down on her not moments before and picking up her bag to put away her tablet. “Come on, it’s for charity.”

“Okay, just. Give me a minute,” he grunts, leaning on the computer desk.

“Are you—” Felicity gapes at him, eyes trailing down to the distinct tent of his pants. “ _Still_?”

Oliver gives her a look. “Hey, all I know is I was eating you out and then you went all sexy hacker. Okay? It’s not my fault.”

“Oh, the hacker thing does it for you?” she asks, voice dipping into a sultry register.

“You’re not helping,” he scolds, fighting a smile _and_ a hard-on simultaneously. “You know, we _could_ just stay home and have sex. I can write a check for orphans after.”

“It’s a _police_ charity event and we need the _publicity_ ,” she reminds him.

“Okay, okay,” grumbles Oliver as he falls in step with her towards the stairs leading out of the foundry. “But I owe you an orgasm.”

She laughs, smoothing down his mussed hair and kissing him on the cheek. “Deal. Looking forward to it.” She knows he’s worth the wait.

“Anyway,” adds Felicity, grabbing her purse and adjusting her heels, “didn’t you hear? Bruce Wayne is going to be there.”

“What the f—?”

**Author's Note:**

> My hope in posting this is that I'll trick myself into actually writing the rest, which is a series of very self-indulgent character interactions with Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson. I'll update the tags if it ever happens! Please leave a comment if you wanna see Bruce flirt with Felicity.


End file.
